Aldiëdra
by Myriad Silvre
Summary: ::discontinued:: A young maiden discovers her true wealth, and a young elf discovers his calling.
1. Drira, Slayer of the Orc

Author's Note: In a review I was told the story was good but the character *Drira* was too much a "Mary-Sue". To that reviewer I say, "Thank you for the writing compliment and I hope you continue to read my story. As for Drira, if this were a parody or comedy, my character wouldn't be perfect. And she's not perfect; the story hasn't finished. That comment was made after a reading of the first chapter, and her character was not fully developed. However, this story is stereotypical, I suppose. There are slight twists, but that is my style of writing when it comes to plots like this. So, I hope you enjoy the rest of the story because of my writing skills, if not for the main character."

*~*~*~*~*

Drira shook a lock of black hair from her eyes and faced her opponent.

"This day you breathe your last, foul orc!" she shouted before swinging her blade. Then she smiled down at the severed limb. "Beg and I will kill you swiftly-"

A chorus of laughter met her ears and she whirled around, shocked. Her brother Bryn walked up to her and a warm smile flooded his handsome face.

"There is no need for orc-slaughter this morn, Drira." He reached down and picked up the tree bough she had hewn. "Although, you are getting quicker. The tree didn't stand a chance."

Bryn's friends bellowed laughter again and set Drira's cheeks aflame. He rubbed her head affectionately. "Forgive me for having a bit of fun with you, little sister. But trust me, this laughter from the boys and me is nothing compared to the scorn you would get from our mother if she had found you."

"I know," Drira sighed. Bryn held out his hand and she returned his sword to him.

"You are fortunate I don't thrash you for taking my sword!"

She smiled slightly and followed Bryn and the other boys back into the village. Drira was an eighteen-year-old mortal who lived with her mother and two brothers: Bryn and Garron, the eldest. She was tall for a maiden but slender and yet very strong, this perhaps coming from defending against her older brothers. The boys each had tanned skin and sand-colored hair, their eyes each a dark brown. Drira stood out from them as her skin was fairer and softer, even more so than the other maidens her age. Her eyes sparkled like the ocean, blue-green and very clear, and her black hair fell in an unkept braid down her back. Her brothers saw how their friends watched her, and if it weren't for her constant ability to make mischief they would most likely fall for her. But she was too much a friend to be adored in that way, though Bryn and Garron's friends all adored her.

"I suppose Garron sent you looking for me," Drira mused when they entered the village. Bryn nodded and smiled.

"He feared something had happened to you. I told him you were too smart to get into too much trouble, and too strong to stay in it. He said that's what worries him."

"He doesn't like it that I am not a waif of a girl," Drira snapped, her eyes narrowing. "He'll never accept that!"

"It's not the strength that worries him, Drira," Bryn said seriously as he stopped and turned to her. "Garron–as well as myself–fear you will one day believe yourself so strong as to go off on your own and encounter something you indeed cannot fight. We want you to be happy and strong, Drira, but safe as well."

"I understand, Bryn. I do." She looked up to him and smiled, then hugged him. "Thank you."

"Of course. And besides, _we_ want to be the ones known throughout the land as the tree--I mean, _orc_ slayers."

She glared up at him and he grinned, then ran off laughing.


	2. Legolas

**__**

*~*~*in Mirkwood*~*~*

Legolas set his sight on a fruit blossom far from his perch atop the hill and released his arrow. A few short moments later the arrow bit neatly into the ground, pinning down the flower. He smiled and his blue eyes glittered as he leapt down and ran to his arrow.

"Excellent, Legolas," Thranduil smiled at him. "You are one of the best archers in Mirkwood."

Legolas smiled again. The praise was welcomed, and Legolas knew his father did not deal praise carelessly. He retrieved his arrow and slipped it back into its quiver, then walked with his father to the top of a cliff which overlooked Mirkwood and the surrounding countryside. The sun shone brightly upon the golden trees and sweet waters of his home and warmed his face. But something caught his eyes amidst this beauty and peace; a darkness shadowed his mind and made him frown. He turned toward the south and felt his eyes widen as he beheld the dark clouds brewing at the edge of the horizon. He stared, not understanding, and heard his father sigh.

"This my son, is the reason I asked you to test your skills. I am asking you to go to the council of Elrond in Rivendell to advise this matter. Elves from our home have been asked to attend, and you will be one of them. I will send two others with you on your journey. This…this darkness does not just blot the sun of our land, but of all those in Middle-Earth. In Rivendell Elrond has gathered together leaders of each race to help decide what is to be done of this evil. I will send with you our news and guidance."

"Yes, Father," Legolas bowed, his keen eyes sharper than a raptor's. "Elaborate further."

Legolas listened intently as the king spoke of the terror breeding near Mordor and Isengard. And he heard again the account of the One Ring which suddenly encircled all of Middle-Earth in its gold finality.

"You do understand the dangers, my son?"

Legolas nodded solemnly, the light carefree wind whipping his blond tresses into his eyes. Eyes that had been just a short moment ago so free of fear in his beloved Mirkwood. And now they held a darker glitter, one that was fully prepared for the best and the worst to come. There was still no fear, but the freedom was gone.


	3. A Living Star

**__**

*~*~*in Rohan*~*~*

Drira sat numbly at the wall outside her home, her eyes red from tears. Garron knelt down beside her, saying nothing.

"I could do nothing, Garron," she whispered to her brother. He shook his head.

"It is not your fault, Drira. You must understand this-"

"I should have _done_ something!" she shouted, her voice breaking. Fresh tears trailed down her cheeks and she closed her eyes, covering her face. He pulled her to him and held her, crying with her. Bryn came to them and looked down, waiting for Garron to look up. The two boys then left Drira at the wall and walked a distance away.

"Mother said to explain everything to her, Garron," Bryn said. "When would be…when should we?"

"Not now. We should wait until the grieving has passed. How she would take news like that at this time is beyond me. This is a tender time and we should wait until some of her strength has returned."

Bryn nodded and they looked back to Drira, but she was gone. Garron looked at Bryn, then they looked to the house.

Drira sat on her knees staring at the bed. Her mother lay there, eyes closed, heart stopped, arms folded neatly in a look of peace. Drira took a breath before gingerly touching her mother's hand, then she fell onto her in a heap of sorrow.

"I love you, Mother! Please don't…please don't leave me…" She wept silently as she hugged her mother's body, then stroked the woman's hair and kissed her brow before standing. She turned and walked away from the bed then, the other mourners parting respectfully. She walked again to the wall and stared up at the sky. The night was cloudy and she felt it would start to rain, as though the clouds shared in her sorrow. She gazed to them until her vision blurred and she blinked, then studied the sky more closely. The clouds parted and a single star winked down at her. She smiled through the tears and wrapped her arms about her, then closed her eyes and breathed in relief.


	4. Discussion by the Spring

**__**

*~*~*one week later*~*~*

Drira tossed another stone into the spring behind her home. There was an emotion behind that toss…a feeling she had not been able to wave away after her mother had passed. Garron noticed it, but Bryn felt more strongly about it. He worried for his sister.

Bryn had seen twenty-one summers in his life. Garron was three years his senior, and the only one to really remember their father. Drira never knew him. Bryn felt extremely close to Drira because she suddenly came into his life just after his father died and had become his new playfriend. Thus, seeing her in such a dejected state by the stream hurt his soul.

"Drira," he said softly. She blinked in reply. He stood beside her and brushed stray tendrils of hair from her face. She jumped slightly at his touch, then turned to him. "Drira," he began again, "I think there are some things we should discuss."

"Yes," she nodded, her eyes scanning over the water. He turned her to face him.

"Drira, you know our mother loved you extremely-"

"Of course, Bryn," she half-smiled. "Always."

"And you know Garron and I love you."

"Always," she repeated. "And I love each of you."

"Yes. And now-"

"I've made up my mind, Bryn," she interrupted him, her eyes confident. He looked at her, raising an eyebrow.

"About what?"

"I cannot stay here." His eyes widened. "Tomorrow I am leaving. I do not want you to follow me."

"What...why?"

"I need to. I need to find myself." She closed her eyes, then took a breath. "I've spoken with Garron, Bryn."

His face softened.

"So...you have already discussed..."

"He understands. I pray you do as well."

He set his hands on her shoulders, then hugged her to him.

"If it is best...yes. We don't judge you differently, Drira."

"I should hope not," she smiled up at him, lightly kissing his cheek. He kissed her head. "I will return when I am ready."

"Very well."

She smiled again at his look.

"You are still my older brother...even after it all."

"I will always be your older brother, Drira. No matter the circumstances."

She nodded and blinked away tears.

"This I do not doubt."


	5. Bleak

**__**

*~*~*the next day*~*~*

Drira bundled food and clothing in her pack, rebraiding her hair for the third time. She was almost finished packing, though dawn had not yet arrived. Her mind was ticking with the thought of journey. Once away from Rohan she would know no one, which could be a blessed or cursed thing. Either way, she decided to stay away from conversation if she could help it. She also decided to leave the name Drira of Rohan behind and simply be known as Bleak. This name would most likely help ward off those who would inquire about her origin, which she didn't want to reveal.

She sighed, looking about her poor but happy home, and closed her pack. Their family owned no ponies and she did not feel the need to have one, so her pack was fairly light, mainly clothing and the four gold pieces Garron had given her when she told him of her intentions. She did not want to take them but he insisted, knowing she would soon need food and shelter. She reached for a hooded wrap and robed herself in it, then shouldered the pack and walked quietly through the house to the outside.

"Wait, Drira!" a voice called, breaking the early silence. She jumped and turned around. Bryn smiled to her, his hands hidden behind his back. She eyed him.

"What do you keep from me, Bryn?"

"This." He produced a sword. "And this," he added, taking a scabbard from his side. It was smaller, no doubt his own when he was younger. "Our father had many friends, Drira, one being akin to the royality of Gondor. This sword is from that great land, and I want you to take it with you on your journey."

"Oh, Bryn-"

"I know it is a small token in comparison to the world which awaits you, but I ask that you accept it anyway."

"The smallest token is beyond comparison when it comes from a noble yet humble heart, Bryn," she assured him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I will miss you sorely."

"And I, you," he admitted, then smiled through the sadness. "Arm yourself and be gone, Orc-Slayer," he laughed. She smiled and put on the sword, its size perfect to her frame--delicate yet very powerful. Her teal eyes shone brightly against the ever-graying morning, and she kissed his cheek before turning.

"I will return," she promised over her shoulder. He waved goodbye.

"And I will wait," he sighed to himself.


	6. The Council of the Ring

__

A/N: This is loosely based on the Council of Elrond. However, the exchanging of words between the characters is a mix of the book and movie, and my own paraphrasing. Certain people may not have said exactly the same thing, but the main idea is there.

****

*~*~*in Rivendell*~*~*

Legolas slipped from his horse and looked to his companions. In all his ages he had journeyed to Rivendell only twice, the first being when he was very, very young and the second when the council had met with his father. He had remembered its beauty, but his memory could not hold a candle to the sight before him. Mirkwood was engaging, and Rivendell enchanted his senses again as it had in the past. His heart burned against the evils of Mordor and how this beautiful place was threatened.

Once all the races were seated, Elrond began to speak.

"The One Ring has been found, my friends," he announced. His voice was not rejoiceful. Legolas felt a tension grow among all who listened. "Come forth, Frodo, and show the Ring."

A humble-looking creature made its way to the center of the council and placed the Ring at the table. Each leader leaned forward to better examine the infamous band. The creature sighed heavily and seemed as though a burden had lifted from its small shoulders. Legolas felt for him.

"We should protect our people with this," came a voice to Legolas' left. All eyes turned to Boromir, who still studied the Ring as though no one was watching him. Then he stood and neared the stand, leaning closer. "Its power could be turned for good-"

"Have you not heard?" Legolas exclaimed as he jumped from his seat. "There _is_ no good in this Ring! Lives are destroyed because of it! _Lands_ are destroyed."

Boromir looked at him and his eyes sharpened. Aragorn interfered and the Elf and Man sat down.

"There is only one decision to be made," Elrond continued. "The Ring must be taken back to Mordor and thrown into its fiery depths. It is the only way. The decision before you is this: Which shall take the Ring?"

"Strolling into Mordor is not easily done," Boromir shook his head. "There are Orcs, and those foul creatures are but horseflies when compared to the darker and deadlier breeds Mordor holds. And to speak nothing of the Dark Lord himself!"

"Still it must be done," Elrond boomed, his dark blue eyes narrowing. "That is, of course, unless you would stand back and watch as your people are slain."

Shortly an argument arose, each Race defending their need to take the Ring. And then a voice could be heard, quieter than the rest but just as sincere.

"I will take the Ring!"


	7. Along the Great Anduin

**__**

*~*~*Along the Great Anduin*~*~*

Drira felt the pain in her stomach again and fingered the sword at her side, cloaked by her robe. She was extremely hungry but had yet to find anything edible and there were no nearby inns at which to buy food. If only she could find a wild animal, she would eat it raw!

A snap in the brush stopped her tracks. Her ears pricked and she looked to her left, then right, not moving her head. Nothing was there. She debated on whether to call out or wait for something to appear, then shrugged and continued walking.

"Foolish child," she muttered to herself. "No one comes along these banks!" And then she felt the hair on her neck stand on end. Someone was watching her. She could feel it. She looked around again, feeling afraid for the first time. She wanted to cry out for Bryn or Garron, but she was too far away. She looked ahead of her to the line of trees and swallowed. Lórien was there, and she had heard of the Lady who abided inside its woods. She would have to find a way around before being able to venture forth more, so she dropped her pack and thought over her plan.

Another noise. She held her breath, then whipped around and drew her sword. Her blood was running cold and her hands were starting to shake, but she gripped the hilt more tightly and stood her ground. If there were evils hiding in the brush she would fight to the end, knowing well that she couldn't not last them all.

After a few tense moments she sheathed her sword, taking another sweeping look around before turning to her pack.

An arrow pointed straight in her face.

"Move, young mortal, and you will die."


	8. Nightfall in Lothlórien

**__**

*~*~*nightfall in Lórien*~*~*

Celeborn looked down from his throne at the young girl. Her head was down-cast and her dirty cloak fell about her shoulders.

"Did she carry anything, such as a weapon?"

"Yes, Lord Celeborn," the first Elf nodded, holding up her sword. He took the weapon from the sentinel and examined it, then looked again to the girl.

"Did she threaten you?"

"She drew her weapon, yes, but she did not fight back when we revealed ourselves. I do not think she knew we were there."

The second Elf looked thoughtful.

"If I may, Lord Celeborn, she has been traveling alone for the entire time we watched her. We do not believe her to be a danger to us."

"I will be the judge of that," Celeborn decided, then walked to the girl and lifted her head. "What is your name, child?"

Drira swallowed. She had heard the stories of Elves and even seen a small group of three pass through Rohan, but having them this close to her was breathtaking. Had she been in the forest on more pleasant matters, she would have cried at its beauty. She cried now for her life. When she hesitated, Celeborn spoke in her head.

_You wish to cover your being. I see you using separate titles for yourself. Why_.

"I am journeying to clear my head. I wish no harm to any race and am using a different name to ward off those who might try to hurt me."

"Bleak, is it?" he asked aloud. She looked up. _I see your name is Drira. And yet there is more to you I have yet to understand. I will call you Bleak if you wish_.

"Yes," she nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. His eyes narrowed to study her, then he nodded.

"Her name is Bleak. Her business is her own, and she is only passing by. However, if we may so extend a welcome, I would like to do so. You are famished and dirty, child. It would suit me if you stayed and revived yourself before continuing. You have a strong heart, Bleak, but are still young and vulnerable to the world. There is trouble in Middle-Earth. We cannot be too careful."

"I will stay, if for awhile," she agreed. "And I thank you infinitely, Lord Celeborn."

"I accept that," he smiled, then directed the second Elf-sentinel to aid her. Galadriel looked to her lord.

"You sense something in her. What is it?"

"I cannot fully explain," he answered, watching as Drira walked away. "There is something in her blood…perhaps I cannot explain because she does not understand."


End file.
